


til the astrals tear us apart

by argentumn



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blind Character, Blind!Ignis, Canon Compliant, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Married Couple, Post-Canon, happy promnis day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 05:22:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20186950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentumn/pseuds/argentumn
Summary: There’s soft laughter from where Prompto is still seated. “Someone’sgotta clean the mess and now that Noct’s not he— Shit, sorry.” Prompto cuts himself off when Ignis’ spoon hovers in mid-air.“You do not need to apologise, darling.” Ignis reaches in the blond’s direction, waiting for Prompto take his hand and only speaks again, once he does. “I only think about how proud he would be, to see his people start to live again.”He can almost hear Prompto’s smile, threatening to split his freckled face in half. “He’d be so freakin’ happy.” His voice lowers as if there are other people in the room and he wishes only for Ignis to hear. “He’d be so proud of you, y’know? Just like I am.”Happy Promnis Day!





	til the astrals tear us apart

**Author's Note:**

> so some little birdies over on twitter mentioned that august 9 is promnis day, so here we are! (thanks [nagi](https://twitter.com/Nagifry) and [ari](https://twitter.com/ignisgayentia))
> 
> <strike>let's not mention how shocked i am that i actually managed to write something _and_ post it without being horrifically late</strike>

It’s dark. So, so dark and yet the warm rays of sunshine splaying across his face tell him it’s bright outside. 

There’s a shuffling sound in the kitchen, prompting him to search the bedsheets beside him, finding empty space. He sits up to a soft knock on the bedroom door. 

“Mornin’ Iggy.” 

A soft voice, deepened with age and emotion calls his name as footsteps approach, a soft clinking of cutlery harmonising with the low thuds. “Breakfast in bed?” 

“Prompto.” 

The name floats off Ignis’ tongue, light and breathy. It must be late morning if Prompto’s side of the bed had gone cold and he’d made breakfast. “You are a blessing, Prompto. Thank you.” 

The bed dips as Prompto sits on the edge, waiting as Ignis makes himself comfortable, sitting up against the pillows and headboard. Ignis can only imagine Prompto’s gentle smile, blue-violet eyes shining in the sunlight as his gaze traces Ignis’ face; traces the scarring. Even after all these years, Ignis still feels a white-hot flash of shame when reminded of his scars; reminded of what he’d lost, in spite of such a sacrifice as his vision. 

A tray placed in his lap brings Ignis out of his own thoughts, the delicious scent of spiced porridge and fresh juice permeating his nostrils. 

Prompto had insisted on learning his way around a kitchen, despite Ignis’ resolute proficiency of a stovetop.

_ “Nothing against you, Iggy, you just deserve a rest every now and then.” _

The way he had spoken wasn’t demeaning or insulting, just observational; caring in a way that wasn’t restricting. Prompto had perhaps been the only person in Ignis’ life that hadn’t begun treating him like glass. If there was anything in the world that Ignis’ _loathed_, it was being treated like his blindness equated to helplessness. 

Especially since Noctis was no longer walking on Eos. 

In all manners of speaking, Ignis was a blind advisor without a king to advise and therefore, to some people, deemed useless. 

Those left in Insomnia elected to abandon the monarchy, adopting a new and seldom-tested democratic way of governing. Not in the sense that the citizens would have overthrown the monarchy had it continued, but in the way that no one person or family wished to take up the mantle as new kings and queens. Ignis couldn’t say he blamed them. 

The scourge was vanquished, though the daemons remained by some inevitable force and required whatever surviving warriors Insomnia had to remove them. 

A light touch to his knee brings Ignis back to the apartment and he feels himself colour with embarrassment. 

“You alright, Iggy? You spaced out on me there.” 

Evidently, Prompto had been speaking and not getting any sort of response. 

“Apologies, darling,” Ignis says, facing the sound of Prompto’s voice. “I was lost in thought. What was it you were saying?” 

There’s an affectionate snort that escapes before Prompto can stop it and Ignis’ lips quirk upwards. 

“I was _saying_,” Prompto teases, fond, “that Gladio should be back soon. Hope you’re ready to have your ears talked off about how tired he is.” 

Now, it’s Ignis’ turn to snort. Gladio had taken it upon himself to answer nearly every call for help from anyone outside Insomnia; absent for months at a time, it was the Shield’s favourite hobby to bemoan how sore and tired he was when he returned.

“It is his own fault,” Ignis says primly, finally beginning to eat the breakfast Prompto had so kindly made for him. “No one told him to play the hero.” 

There’s soft laughter from where Prompto is still seated. “_Someone’s_ gotta clean the mess and now that Noct’s not he— Shit, sorry.” Prompto cuts himself off when Ignis’ spoon hovers in mid-air. 

“You do not need to apologise, darling.” Ignis reaches in the blond’s direction, waiting for Prompto take his hand and only speaks again, once he does. “I only think about how proud he would be, to see his people start to live again.” 

He can almost hear Prompto’s smile, threatening to split his freckled face in half. “He’d be so freakin’ happy.” His voice lowers as if there are other people in the room and he wishes only for Ignis to hear. “He’d be so proud of you, y’know? Just like I am.” 

Ignis feels the cool touch of metal, as Prompto brushes his knuckles against Ignis’ cheek. 

He wishes he knew what their wedding bands looked like; wished he could have had even a _glimpse_ of Prompto’s face during the small ceremony they partook in. 

Gladio had told him Prompto cried as Ignis had walked the aisle, fat tears streaming down his freckled face as he’d taken Ignis’ hand and kissed the back of it, standing before the altar and listening to the minister say his lines. He had heard Prompto’s voice wobble, as the blond recited his vows and had tasted salt when they finally shared their first kiss as a wedded pair.

Their wedding night had been spent in the throes of luxury and passion; Ignis can still feel the way Prompto had laid claim to his skin, had bestowed kisses to all the parts of Ignis he could possibly reach. 

Prompto had described their matching rings to him as they lay together that night, voice soft and enamoured, as gentle fingers traced unseen patterns into Ignis’ skin. White gold and thin, with the date of their wedding and the word, _ always _, engraved along the inside. 

Ignis can feel himself listing into the hand cupping his right cheek, indulging in the feel of Prompto’s calloused palm. 

“Your breakfast’s gonna be cold, Iggy.” Prompto’s fingers trail across Ignis’ skin before retreating completely and Ignis returns to the food. 

It doesn’t take long for Ignis to finish and for Prompto to take the dishes to the kitchen, clattering about in his usual way, before returning once more to Ignis’ side. 

“What time is it?” 

Prompto situates himself somewhere to Ignis’ left, a hand landing on Ignis’ thigh. “I think about 10:30, why?” 

Ignis follows the path from Prompto’s hand, up the blond’s muscled arm to his shoulder and across to his face. “You are usually still asleep when I wake. I seem to have overslept.” 

He finds Prompto’s nose with his fingertips and trails them down to brush against his lips.

Prompto responds by pressing featherlight kisses to his fingertips. 

“You needed the rest.” 

He tugs Ignis down beside him, curling an arm around Ignis’ shoulder from below, the other slung around a sharp hip and cradles him against his chest. 

It’s the same position they had found themselves in, the first few nights after Noctis’ death; Ignis and Prompto curling around each other like vines, desperate to find an anchor in the tumultuous sea of emotions, that threatened to drown them both. 

It had been a slow journey to where they find themselves now, through the ten years of endless night and the hardships that came with it. 

Prompto had spent a good amount of that time in Hammerhead, providing Cid and Cindy with backup as they worked to keep hunters in the region operational. Ignis had been in Lestallum, working tirelessly to soothe and assist displaced people within the city. 

Gladio had ferried in between, joining the hunters on their missions, reporting Prompto’s status to Ignis and vice versa. Only a handful of times did either of them embrace the other’s presence during the endless night. 

Then Noctis had returned — aged like the rest of them — slightly taller and more rugged looking.

They all shed tears during their final camp, knowing the fate that was to befall them, but they had made the most of the little time they had left. Prompto had insisted on helping Ignis with the washing up after Gladio and Noctis had retired to the tent, shoulders brushing every so often as they worked in silence.

Ignis recalls that it had been nice, having Prompto to lean on when needed.

“...gy? _Iggy!_” Prompto’s voice breaks through the haze of memories. “You sure you’re ok?”

“Today seems to be the day for remembering things,” Ignis sighs. “I’m sorry, my dear.”

Prompto is silent for a while, rubbing circles into Ignis’ hip with his thumb, letting the sound of their breathing and heartbeats wash over them. He can understand Ignis’ distraction. On the worst days, it takes either of them _ hours _to surface from memories. He takes a glance at the calendar hanging above the dresser and feels as though someone punched all the air from his lungs.

“_Oh _…”

“What is it?”

“It’s almost Noct’s birthday.”

Ignis inhales sharply; they _do_ seem to relapse more severely into memories around that date.

“He would be thirty-five if I’m not mistaken.”

Prompto releases a breathy chuckle and presses his lips against Ignis’ forehead, drawing the taller man even closer. “We’re gettin’ old, Igs.”

Ignis allows Prompto to tangle their legs together, feeling the blond’s socked feet hook around his calves. His head resting on Prompto’s chest, Ignis can hear the younger man’s steady heartbeat, loud and clear in his ear.

“Indeed, I can not dispute that.”

If his hands tighten their grip on the fabric of Prompto’s shirt, neither of them give any indication of having noticed.

“Hey, Iggy.” Prompto tilts his head and noses at Ignis’ hair. “I love you.”

Such simple words and it feels like time has stopped. Ignis breathes deeply, in and out, letting the affection settle over him like a blanket.

“As I love you, my sunshine.”

Prompto makes a pleased sound, maneuvering them enough to tilt Ignis’ head so as to reach his lips.

They kiss in the now-noon sun’s light, soft and unhurried. Prompto’s fingers are gentle on Ignis’ face and Ignis’ hands twist in the blond’s shirt, lips and tongues meeting languidly. When they part after what seems like an age, Prompto brushes brunet hair from Ignis’ forehead and presses another lingering kiss there in its place.

Surrounded by the warmth of the midday sun, the blankets and his husband, Ignis murmurs their everlasting vow against Prompto’s skin.

_ “Til the Astrals tear us apart.” _

**Author's Note:**

> come yell about ffxv and other things on [twitter](https://twitter.com/argentulric) with me
> 
> **Do not repost or redistribute this work on any other site/app. If you see this work anywhere but on AO3, it has not been posted/shared with consent.**


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